A steady tick

A tiny rhythmic beat called me across the floor. I walked quietly to the low wooden shelf near the corner. Resting there was a small desk clock with a brass rim. Its slender black hand nudged forward with a soft, dry click, over and over. I sat down beside it, resting one arm against the polished wood. The vibration traveled softly into my shoulder. Each beat arrived right on time, slow and dependable. I closed my eyes for a little while, just letting the room drift into the rhythm.